X Marks The Spot
by Kariko Emma
Summary: Sakumo and his son, the ever moving target.


**X Marks The Spot**

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**Author's Note**: I thought about something all of a sudden, and was compelled to write about it. I'm finally comfortable writing for these two. It was easier to spin this out. Especially with Sakumo's insight.

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Naruto or any of these wonderful people. Although, I do wish these people would show up more at certain intervals…(makes some noise)…

**Genre**: General. Simple. Nothing too outrageous here.

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He watched him fly. Over the tree tops near the tall yellow wheat near the garden—he soared like his own entity plastered against the blue. The maelstrom came crashing down of course—Sakumo could see it in his son's wide eyes—"Gah…!" Sakumo's form winced as he heard his son hit the ground. Sakumo dropped himself to inspect the damage. He had the strong sense the appearance was worse than the injury. "…I told you not to work so hard," Sakumo watched Kakashi pick himself up and sit on the cold ground. "You've almost exhausted your chakra…" But the words had a way of washing over his young mind like through a sieve. Sakumo smiled lightly. Kakashi leaned back, no doubt grinning too—Sakumo at last noticed two greyish shadows appear across his son's chest. Sakumo pulled up, standing uncomfortably. X marked the spot.

Kakashi let himself have a few more seconds until he jumped up with feigned enthusiasm. He was wearing the crisscross carrier over his body. Though nothing was attached to the back of it just then, Sakumo again flinched at the sight. "Why do you have that thing on?" he asked his son directly.

"…Huh?"

"That."

"This?"

"Yes."

Kakashi shrugged. "It's what you wear."

"_Kami_…" Sakumo muttered. He turned. "Take it off. No, humor me. Just…take it off."

Kakashi straightened and obediently peeled it off. It had begun to meld with his indigo shirt from sweat. Embarrassed, he pulled it behind his back, crumpled in his hands, wet. "Hey…" Kakashi dropped the line as he saw his father retreat then and disappear out of the thick green shadows.

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"…Dad?"

He was somewhat recovered now. Kakashi too. He had breath again in his small little lungs after leaving the weight of a session that always left him craving more, even if his father was not the most enthusiastic teacher, rather, he was only the best. "…Dad?" Who required patience to speak with these days. Kakashi waited.

Like his son, Sakumo sat up on the floor of his bedroom with a voluntary sigh. "…What is it?"

Kakashi entered the room further. "…Are you all right?" the boy asked curiously.

Sakumo took a long look at his son and decided. "…No," he settled. "Yes and no," Sakumo reached out—the young boy came forward and sat next to him, "But I won't burden you with my troubles. I only…Wish—sometimes, things were different. That's all."

Kakashi looked up in even greater curiosity. "Different? How do you mean?"

Sakumo smiled and sighed. "Kakashi—I hope I can make you understand this someday," spoke the greater maelstrom, "But you are my son, and therefore…you have…You have a name, wherever you go. You have a target wherever you go. I don't need to see a literal one on you. It only gives them more incentive…" Sakumo shook his head. "You. Are all I have."

"…I know," said Kakashi. "…That's why I train so hard."

Sakumo smiled briefly. "Perhaps that's one of the reasons…" He looked in his son's eyes, teeming with pride. Sakumo exhaled once more. "Ah…go on," he said.

"May I go to the village?"

"Sure. But take Pakkun with you."

"Aww…" Kakashi's sour tone of complaint over the little pug's presence did not stop him from going. Sakumo knew it would not.

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Sakumo had nothing to do. He had just returned from fourteen days in the neutral zone, maneuvering between frayed tensions like downed power lines, hazardous and inconvenient. And even though certainly with his power he could spark one easy, that did not happen, thankfully. He muddled through it with his favorite team. It went as planned. The ukenin was in custody. Soon enough, here he was, back again. He was pleased with himself. More than just the outcome of the mission but his threat level for Kakashi attending to the fields. Again: there wasn't much to do.

Suddenly tired, he lied down on the floor again, and stretched his arms loose from the stiff pulls of hanging on tree limbs when the ukenin was an aficionado of earth jutsu. Never had the ground beneath Sakumo's feet moved so much in one nightfall. Even the muscles in his hands pulled stiffly from the tense pull of his tantou several times against the enemy blade—the gleaming dark blade aiming for the singular point…the white light against the black…

He shook his head, emptying his mind with difficulty. At last the epicenter was game for being void. Sleep came. The expanse so black and starry moved quickly and quietly in the heat of the afternoon, sunny and dry. The black lightened a couple hours to a grey shade of slate. The chalk: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple drew the scene and the colors melt mood—the light was fading now; the glow of candlelight prevailed in his mind's eye in the dark of the room. He could hear her breathing now. The room smelled more familiar with her fragrance occupying it. But she herself was small and thin, and did not take up much room beside of him as he felt her near. Sakumo turned—

"Dad?"

His arms ached behind his head—Sakumo came to uncomfortably from the vivid dream and drew up slowly, embarrassed the dream had colored his face with details. "…Sorry," he heard his son apologize. "But Sandaime-sama wrote you this."

Sakumo received a small piece of paper, folded up, from his son's small hand. Sakumo again tried to shake his emotion. And trying to act casual, Kakashi sat next to his father and yawned as if he were just barely supporting his weight on the two palms underneath him. As Sakumo opened it at last, his father swiveled it in front of his son. "You're ruthless you know," said his father.

Kakashi smiled.

_Sakumo—I just heard the festival is going on today in the East Village after their rain delay. I realize you just returned, and I wasn't sure if you knew…P.S. – Has your son gotten taller? Signed, Sarutobi._

Sakumo glanced at his son, and then glanced out the window. Just as he folded the paper back to it's original state his son's…excitement betrayed his laziness. "So? So?" Kakashi peeled, "What was it? A mission? An _important_ mission?"

His father smiled. "You rail on me for going away. Now you _want_me to go away? I'm confused." He stood up slowly, still reeling from the dream he'd had. "No," Sakumo sighed, "It's not a mission."

"Then!"

"The festival is going on today…" Kakashi groaned in the background, "_Daad!_"

"What? You asked what it was about. So…I guess I'm going by myself then."

"No…" Kakashi stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and reluctantly, he mumbled, "I'll go."

"Oh, you will?"

The young boy looked up and nodded. "But was that really what was on the paper…?"

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It was just the two of them, in relaxed uniform, and after starting out slowly, Kakashi suggested a race. "A race?"

"Yeah. You and me."

Sakumo's eyebrows rose attentively.

"We'd get there faster," Of course Kakashi implied much more as he squatted with his right arm and leg strutted out, ready to fly.

"You mean…_I'd _get there faster. It would take you…at least ten minutes."

Kakashi made a noise. "I _challenge_ you to a _race_," he said firmly, unwavering. "Come on…_Please?"_

"Oh…ok."

"_Ok…! _On your marks…"

…Marks…?

"Get set…"

…Marks…?

"GO!"

Frightened like a jackrabbit, Sakumo stood in the dust before he ran ahead of his son in one sweeping motion. After a very early and no doubt brutal bounce of a lead, Sakumo slowed and kept the race even just to keep an eye on his son flying down the path on his small feet so fast Sakumo watched him to be sure he wouldn't trip over himself. Or in case of nearby danger, always lurking in the smallest of shadows…

"…GAAH!"

Sakumo grinned. "…Stay close now. Don't wander—Oh don't make that face. These people are farmers. Like me. Show some respect."

Half-heartedly, (and still huffing a great deal), Kakashi obliged his father and followed obediently, stopping to look at all the stands and agricultural stuff and fresh smells so sweet Kakashi was high on homegrown fragrances the rest of the dull and lazy afternoon. Time and again they stopped and Kakashi tuned out of the boring conversations while pretending to look elsewhere in hopes of pressing onward.

They did not leave until after dark. Sakumo mentally kicked himself for getting carried away on the village aroma. "Stay close." he said, keeping an eye on the night. Kakashi rolled his eyes. "I _know!_You've said so a million times."

"Well good. Because I'll say it a trillion times before it's all said and done."

"You're going to keep holding my hand until I'm eighteen."

"Intuitive."

Kakashi grimaced. He looked around at the night while holding onto his father's hand, walking now, down the trail. "…Hey dad?"

"What?"

"You can sense a little, right?"

"You mean chakra? Yes. Why?"

"…No reason. I just wondered what the night felt like."

At first Sakumo thought it an odd question. "Well. How do you feel about it?"

"It's dark."

Sakumo grinned upon the simple observation.

"And spooky," Kakashi wasn't finished. "Things look different in the night than they do in the day. I wondered if they had different feels."

Suddenly the dream's imagery and sensory both came back to Sakumo in full, blinding his sense completely. "Ah… well…I don't know," said Sakumo while trying to rid himself of it: now was not exactly the time.

"…Dad?"

"What?" Sakumo answered promptly, hoping to become aware to question or trouble. Kakashi cocked his head. "What are you thinking about?"

"Ah…Me? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I'm not thinking about anything."

Kakashi quieted, shifting his gaze intensely; Sakumo could almost feel now the gears turning in the young boy's brain. It was only a matter of time before…

…Two white shadows suddenly crisscrossed over his son's chest—"AH!" Sakumo wrapped Kakashi under him…

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"…Dad?" It was no doubt the oddest all-of a-sudden hug he'd ever had. "Dad…?"

Sakumo pulled away—he couldn't feel anything. Cautiously he looked:

There was no one but them on the trail.

The stupidity weighing him, Sakumo looked up and saw the light filtering through the trees in the shape. "God damn…" Beneath him, Kakashi was still waiting for an explanation. "Come on…" Sakumo pulled on his son's hand. "…Let's get out of here."

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Before they reached home, Sakumo went into an old shrine sitting off the trail a distance; it was very old, out of the way, but well used by any sort of traveler since the morning it stood into existence. Sakumo himself had passed by it many times. Kakashi waited while his father knelt inside praying, heavy from his burdens on his shoulders. The dream still near the forefront of his mind, he thought of his wife and all the pain and unending tears since losing her. The shadow appeared then, from the lone white crucifix in the center, and blanketed a sacred X across his back, marking the spot.

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_-Caliko_


End file.
